Thursday, January 10, 2019

{cold and sunny}

My husband has been on this off again/on again fountain pen kick. Now it's on, but he's been placed on a pen-buying probation. At least for now. I mean, how many pens does one person need? His latest interest is Chinese pens, which truly, you can buy for a song.

I have a Waterman that oldest son gave me years ago, and an older pen from my husband that's tiny and unique. No idea what it's called. And my newest is one of those Chinese models. It's transparent and a pale purple in color, and filled with lavender ink. Perfect for me.

My problem, though, is slowing down my handwriting. I've found that I have to be intentional. Otherwise my pen's ink won't flow nicely, and I end up with a mess. I imagine Jane Austen writing her books, or Dickens, dipping a quill, which sounds maddening. Supposedly he had a passion for his writing equipment, and I guess those folks had a natural flair for using quills. If it's what you're used to...

I want to slow down, and it's so hard. My thoughts fly past, and I still appear to be juggling too many balls.

It's a situation where if I sit here and think on all that needs doing I'll go nuts. That's where the intentional part fits in.

It's a process.

Oddly enough, things seem to be going backwards in some ways. Rabbit ears again for tv, and a paring down of belongings. I think the speed at which the Internet romanced us has caught us up short. We're not so in love.

Maybe we should go the way of the Luddites. In a way, I like that idea.